


Stay Down

by saltandbyrne



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fights, Homophobia, M/M, Past Underage, Piercings, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Slurs, Tattoos, Violence, Watersports, fuckpig verse, implied fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen can't really remember the first time someone called him a faggot. </p><p>
  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/search/fuckpig+verse">#fuckpig verse on tumblr</a>
</p><p>It starts <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7624912">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollylux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/gifts), [Exaggerated_Specificity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exaggerated_Specificity/gifts), [hellhoundsprey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/gifts), [homo_pink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homo_pink/gifts).



> This is the future of Fuckpig. This is after the first times, after everything changes but the song remains the same, after broken hearts and skinned knees and thousands of miles on the road. This is a crime against the state, this is the meaning of life.*
> 
> (see end notes for possible triggery stuff)

Jensen can't really remember the first time someone called him a faggot. Was he eleven? Ten? Nine?  
  
Children are mean as curs and they could smell it on him, early, before he knew he didn't look at other girls the way his brothers did. Before he was twelve and sucked Jenny O’Brien’s big brother’s dick in the back of their mom’s wood-sided Oldsmobile station wagon off the old stadium access road, before he even knew that faggot was the right kind of word for boys like him, not like spaz and trailer trash and pretty boy.  
  
Well. Pretty boy might not be so wrong either.  
  
Utica, New York isn't a place anyone should visit but Fuckpig had played an off-tour show to a college crowd and made back their gas money in spades. Private school kids trying on their hipster skins before they do their five-year tour of the big city, Jensen knows the type.  
  
"It's a metal band, but like, everyone's gay.  They’re really popular on tumblr."  
  
Jensen's pre-show smoke break had been better than watching television. Is this what his life would be like if he'd stayed home and stayed in school and dared to say no to drugs? Girls with choppy bangs and tight-lipped boyfriends, tugged along to hit up the bad side of town and pretend they're ever going to work for a living.  
  
"Guy on bass is bi."  
  
Jensen had stubbed his smoke and flicked the butt at some wide-eyed phi beta kappa catalog girl, winked, blown her constipated boyfriend a kiss. He loves college towns.  
  
They'd killed it on stage, like always, like Jared could pour anything less than his huge heart into it. Jensen takes another drag, lets his shoulder seep out some club heat onto the backdoor brick wall while Chad humps Adrianne's bass drum to the van. He hefts it in and wipes his forehead with the hem of his shredded TSOL shirt as he runs back inside.

A good show, a good night, and best of all, Jared's huge old heart all to himself after.  
  
He tugs his shorts up a little higher.

“That was not a pit.”

Jeff’s got his guitar over his shoulder and the sort of stubble that makes Jensen’s thighs itch just looking at it. 

“Have you seen what passes for a pit these days? I’m telling you, I saw at least one townie deck a frat boy.  Works for me.”

 Adrianne knocks the door open with her hip.  She’s wearing her usual uniform of shit-kicking biker boots, skinny black jeans and an old wifebeater.  It’s old and stretched thin enough to show her black sports bra and the massive snake lady tattoo that twines around her torso to tail-fuck some Edo-period version of Poison Ivy Rorschach. 

She swings her cymbal bag out as Chad dashes back in.  Jason flattens himself out of the way, big hands clutching the neck of his bass bag.

“Did someone give him blow?”

Everyone looks at Jensen.  He shrugs.

“Not tonight.”

Chad’s back out with Adrianne’s chair in one hand ( _throne, Chad, it’s my throne_ ) and an expertly-coiled loop of cables over his skinny arm.  Chad’s the smallest member of their road-worn family.  One night Adrianne and Jason had taken turns squat-lifting him across their shoulders and Jensen had almost pissed himself laughing.  Jared had scooped him up and done the same thing and Jensen had ended the night getting fucked against the wall with his ankles out in the Minnesota night.

“Faster we load up the faster I can find some loaded frat boy.”

Chad races back with Jason’s bass amp, all white teeth and whipcord muscle.  Blow or not he’s got ant-strength that even Jensen can’t begrudge him.

“You gonna carry some shit or just stand there lookin’ pretty?”

Jensen knows he can’t really get wet between his legs but fuck does Jared make him question that sometimes.

“Gotta keep up my girlish figure.”

He juts his hips out, slouches down a little so Jared can crowd into his space.  His hands are always hot after a show, smelling like steel string and sweat as Jared tucks them up along Jensen’s jaw.  He plucks Jensen’s cigarette between his fingers.

“I was gonna suck your dick again but if you’re feelin’ girly…”

He takes a drag, arches his neck, and leans in so Jensen can just feel the promise of his cock pressing through his jeans.  He’s not even hard yet.

Jensen turns his head, kisses along Jared’s knuckles, tracing over the C-U-N-T tattoo stenciled over Jared’s skin.  It’s Jensen’s favorite.

Smoke billows out of the corner of Jared’s mouth as he smirks down at Jensen. 

“Greedy,” Jared whispers. He latches his thumb into the dip behind Jensen’s ear, right over the little pig face Jason had stickpoked into his skin two tours ago.  Jared has a matching one on the inside of his wrist, a little memento for how deep Jensen had taken him the first time.

Jensen lets his lips drag over Jared’s skin, chapped skin catching on road life calluses.  Up on stage Jared’s larger than life but when he dips down to kiss Jensen nicotine-dizzy he’s just the right size to make Jensen’s neck arch and his stomach swoop a little.

“Oh don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m happy to watch.”

Jensen turns, letting Jared’s lips drag across his cheek as he scowls at Chad’s shit-eating grin.

“You wouldn’t even know I was there, I’m just sayin’.”

“Fuck off, Chad.”

Jared rolls off him with a groan, but not before he shoots Jensen a look that could get him pregnant.  Jensen’s skin prickles.

“Suit yourselves, losers.  I’m gonna go plow something with a trust fund.”

Chad blows them a kiss and disappears down the side street, skipping a little in his rank Vans.  He’s not allowed to take them off in closed quarters since The Incident in Albuquerque and Jensen prays he keeps them on for whatever poor soul he’s jackrabbiting his dick into that night.

“I’m all out of smokes, lovebirds.”

Jason smiles, his perma-bake eyes crinkling up at the corners. 

“I need sugar in liquid form,” Adrianne pipes in, followed by a loud crash and a string of anatomically impossible curse words as she knocks over some of Chad’s handiwork in the van.  
  
“Saw a 7-11 a few blocks up.”

Jensen doesn’t really just sit around and look pretty.  Despite everyone’s fond jokes about Jensen being a hood ornament, he pulls his weight just like the rest of them.  Jared hands him a wad of sweat-soaked cash.

“The usual?”  
  
Reds for him and Jared, Camels for Jeff, American Spirits if they've got 'em for Jason and a goddamned cream soda for Adrianne.

“I’m good, kid.”  Jeff steps out of the van and shrugs on his leather jacket.  It doesn’t matter that the rest of them are comfortable in t-shirts and Jensen’s barely wearing any clothes.  Jeff’s as impervious to heat as he is to social censure and safe words.  He sweats like it’s a favor to his endless line of armpit worshipping Daddy’s boys.

“Got some pretty little thing locked up in a Colgate dorm room.”

He grins and flicks at the chain around his neck.  His dog tags clink against the handful of keys that dangle just below his collarbone.  Jeff’s got a string of subs that wait maiden-chaste in army barracks and prep school dormitories across the country.  Jensen’s still not sure how he keeps all the cock cage keys straight.

“You gonna let him out?”

Adrianne slams the van door and slings her arm over Jeff’s shoulder.  He shrugs and gives her a knowing wink.

“See if he earns it.”

Jeff saunters off, no doubt to a waiting ride in some poor rich boy’s parent-bought Acura.  Adrianne rolls her eyes and hops over to Jason, jumping on his back and wrapping her long legs around his waist.

“If you carry me inside I’ll roll you a fatty.”

Jason heaves her up, catching her under the knees.

“Deal.”

“Soda!” she yells, looking back at Jensen as she bounces off on Jason’s back, clinging to him like the giant octopus tattooed across her back.

“You want a piggyback ride, babydoll?”

Jared pouts his lips as Jensen rolls his eyes.

“Not really the kind of ride I had in mind.”

Jared kisses him, for real this time, a little out of nowhere and still, after fifteen thousand miles coast to coast between them Jensen’s heart pounds in his chest.  Fucking panty wetter.

“Oh, you are gonna get so fucked tonight, Jen.”

“Soda,” Jensen says weakly, his cock a little achey-hard and bubbling up wet at the tip just from Jared’s paws on him.

“She’ll beat me up.”

Jared snorts and runs his hand down Jensen’s side, cupping it over Jensen’s half-bare ass cheek.

“You want me to come with?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He plants another kiss on Jared’s lips, right over the matched rings Gen had added to his collection a few weeks ago.  Jared’s a fast healer.  The barbell newly lodged between Jensen’s boy tits still itches like a motherfucker.

“Go inside and make sure Jason doesn’t chief the whole fucking thing again.”

Jared laughs and gives him one last good grind of his cock, fucking tease.

“Get you nice and baked before I put a bun in your-”

“ _Soda_.”

 Jensen ducks out from under Jared’s arm, making sure to swing his ass as he walks away.

 “Oh, babe, get me some-”

 “Sour straws. I know.”

 There are places on earth where time seems to bend a little.  A Target at 3 AM, the shoe repair shops where Jeff and Adrianne get their boots resoled, that meditation center outside of Pittsburgh that Jason had dragged him to, Chad’s house.

 The 7-11 in a last gasp strip of downtown Utica is definitely one.  Jensen ignores the usual stares and crouches down to get Jared’s favorite sugar in strip form.  They only sell cream soda in six-packs but Adrianne deserves a treat.  Her girl had just put them up for a week and given them all some new shiny things before they went back on the road. 

 Jensen dumps everything on the counter and hands the guy a stack of singles that look like they’d glow under a black light.  The guy takes them with the barest tips of his fingers, not even pretending to hide the sneer on his face.  Jensen leaves the change and pushes the door open with his back.

It barely registers the first time.

 _Faggot_.  
  
Jensen's got two arms to manage a bag full of cream soda, three sleeves of sour straws and four packs of cigarettes and the door's swinging behind him before he hears it again.  
  
“Hey, faggot.”  
  
Jensen smiles. The guy's got a point.  
  
“I'm talking to you.”  
  
Jensen runs his tongue along his bottom lip, tracing over the jagged _cocksucker_ that's been staining his pout since he was fifteen.  
  
Jensen's hungry and horny and a bunch of other shit that's not in a mood for a fight. He hunches his shoulders down, ignoring how one of them falls free under his stretched out Slayer shirt.  Jensen can be small when he needs to.  
  
He shoves the candy in his back pocket, fighting that old voice in his head that says he shouldn't have worn the short-shorts, the ones where the pockets fall out to graze over his girlslut tattoos. His mother’s voice rings in his head, why do you have to advertise it, honey, you know we love you but.

 He picks up his pace, tucking smokes into his pocket and staring down at the bow tattoos looping over the tops of his thighs.  They're pretty and one of them's half purple from Jared's mouth and Jared’s gonna fuck him till he cries tonight.  
Fuck this guy.  Jensen keeps walking, cursing himself for not wearing any rings tonight.

 “Where you going, pretty boy?”

 One block to go and there’s still two of them behind him, laughing to each other and matching his pace.  Don’t run and don’t look back.  Jensen walks past the club marquee, still lit up with _tonite hesh her glrybys f*ckpig_.  He rounds the corner of the alley and chances a look back.  They’re still there, one of them leaning against the wall and looking back at the main street while the other one stalks toward him.

 “Got some dick to suck, isn’t that why you boys are here, too?”

 Jensen spins around and winks, walking backwards.  The van’s a couple hundred feet away but there’s no one else in sight.

 Fuck it.

 “What’d you say to me, faggot?”

 Jensen has a split second to make a decision.  He sighs and places the bag with Adrianne’s soda safely on the ground, giving the guy enough time to close in on him. 

 “Funny, that’s what your dad called me last-”

 The guy’s fist hits his face square. Blood blossoms in his mouth, an old taste that makes Jensen smile pink through his teeth.  
  
"My mama used to hit me harder than that."  
  
He spits on the ground and rushes.  
  
His shoulder makes meaty contact with a rib, layered under flab that might have served this asshole on the high school football team but it'll just tire him out now. The years aren't kind on the kind of poor that makes you fat.  
  
Gravel sprays as they hit the ground.  Jensen's always been more comfortable in the gutter. Packs of cigarettes and Jared’s candy fly out of his pockets as Jensen lands a solid punch with his JAIL knuckles.    
  
The guy hisses out a stunned _motherfucker_ and that’s the thing with bullies.  They’re shocked when he fights back, every time.  The guy hits him in the ribs, a crack that knocks the wind out of him but doesn’t buck him off.  That’s the thing about being good in a fight.  It’s not so much what you give as how much you can take and Jensen’s taken worse hits than that with a cock in his ass.  
  
He's seen Adrianne go straight for the eyes more than once and Jensen's faggot enough to gladly fight like a girl.  He’s got his thumb right up in the guy’s eye socket when he feels hands around his chest and his first thought is he’s gonna fucking kill someone if they pull out his new barbell.

He gets tossed face-first in the ground, twisting himself right in time to catch a boot to the thigh inside of his ribs.  He moves to get up as fast as he can, feeling a little panic rise now that it’s two-on-one but he’s had worse.  He heaves up onto his knees, head spinning as he braces himself for another kick.

 It doesn’t come.

 There’s a thud, a noise that sounds a few teeth short of a curse, and when Jensen surges onto unsteady feet one guy’s running for his life and Jared’s kneeling on the other one.

 Jensen can stand up for himself but watching Jared do it for him still makes him weak in the knees.

 “Let me go,” the guy grunts, spitting out what Jensen’s pretty sure is at least half of a tooth.

 “Let you go?”

 Jared punches him one more time, completely unnecessary and vicious and part of Jensen wishes Jared really could get him knocked up sometimes.

 “You ok?”

 Jared’s got the guy by the throat as he looks up at Jensen, puppy-sweet for one fleeting moment until Jensen nods.

 “What, this little love bite?”

 He pats at the blood on his lip, smiling.

 Jared nods, tight, any trace of sweetness seeping out of his face as he snarls and wrenches the guy up by his neck.

 “What did you call him?”

 Jared heaves the guy onto his knees, Jared’s arm slung under his shoulder and behind his neck in what Jensen vaguely recognizes as a half-nelson.  One arm is trapped against Jared’s chest while the other flails uselessly in the air.  Jared’s knee snakes around the guy’s thigh and he’s not going anywhere.

 Jared wrestled as a kid until he got kicked out for getting handsy with too many of the boys, a fact Jensen has beat his dick to more than once.

 “I didn’t”

 “Say it.”

 The guy looks up at Jensen with enough desperate hatred to burn his skin off if Jensen gave a fuck.

 “Faggot.”

 “Lucky you, you found two of ‘em.”

 Jared uses his free hand to stroke along the guy’s lower lip, so tender it makes Jensen’s skin crawl to watch it.

 “You ever see a faggot’s dick before?”

 The guy’s eyes go white wide and he kicks up to struggle again, trying to punch backwards at Jared.  Jared grabs his wrist and there’s a sickening pop and then the guy’s straight-up sobbing. 

 “Show him, Jen.”

 Jensen hadn’t noticed his hard-on until now.  He bites his fat lip, popping his button and tugging down the two-inches of zipper on his second-hand Jessica Simpson for Walmart shorts.

 “Spend a lot of time thinking about it, what faggots like us do?”

 Jensen barely owns two pairs of underwear to rub together and he’s certainly not wearing any now.  He pulls his cock out, marveling that he isn’t more mortified by how fucking hard he is.

 He doesn’t know where this is going but he’ll go anywhere Jared takes him.

 “What the fuck,” the guy spits out, starting to thrash again until Jared grabs his jaw. 

 “Coulda fooled me, chasin’ that sweet piece of ass all the way back here.”

 Jared looks up at Jensen, juts his chin to beckon him closer.  Jensen steps in, hand stroking his cock and something like love coiling in his bruised ribs.

 “C’mon, Jen, can’t let the man go without getting some.”

 Jared pinches his fingers in on the guy’s cheeks, hard enough to fish-gape his lips open.  The F-U-C-K on Jared’s left knuckles stacks up under the forced pout on the guy’s mouth.

 “He’s a dirty boy, my Jen.  Does all the nasty faggot shit I like.”

 Teeth clenched and eyes rolling in sheer terror the guy makes a slaughterhouse noise as Jared looks up at Jensen, face lit up like a roman candle.

 “Piss in his mouth.”

 Jensen swallows.  There are tears streaming down the guy’s face and he and Jared are the same kind of sick inside.  He steps in closer.

 There’s a few heavy seconds, hissed in breaths whistling through Jensen’s teeth and a hint of doubt flickering across Jared’s face until the first stream of piss splashes onto the guy’s nose.  Jared groans as Jensen lets the rest go.

 “That’s my boy.”

 The guy’s screams sound wet, bubbling through his grit teeth as Jensen gets his aim right.  He lets the last of it hit the guy’s eye, because fuck you.  Jared laughs, devil handsome with a black eye blooming across his face and Jensen’s piss dripping on his hand.  Jared doesn’t give a fuck.

 “Aw, he didn’t save any for me.”

 Jared pulls the guy’s head back just enough to plant a kiss on his lips, filthy, shameless, wet and loud, all the things about Jared that make his blood sing.

 “Now go tell your friends how some pretty little faggot wouldn’t even fuck your mouth.”

 Jared lurches up and shoves the guy forward, letting him stumble onto his hands and knees before he staggers up.  Jensen half-tucks his dick back in and braces himself for the guy to fight back but he doesn’t, just lumbers a few feet before he pukes against the wall and runs back to whatever shithole he came from.

 “Are you two fucking out here, I want my-”

 Adrianne’s mouth opens and closes a few times as she takes in Jared and Jensen leaning against one another, panting for breath and bloodied up.

 “Oh Jesus.”

 “It’s fine.”

 Jensen puts his hand up.

 “Are you-”

 “Ade, unless you feel like watching me suck a dick you should go back inside right now.”

 “I, yeah.”

 She throws up her hands, frowning at his split lip.

 “You sure you’re…”

 Jensen’s not really listening anymore, not when he’s got both hands in the waistband of Jared’s pants.  He drops to his knees, nuzzling right against the fat line of Jared’s hard cock. 

 “Jen, we should, fuck,” Jared growls, his hands going into Jensen’s hair even as he tries to say something sensible and stupid like _we should leave_.

 Jensen rips Jared’s fly open faster than he should.  Jensen’s not the only one who never wears underwear.  Jared reaches down to help but Jensen bats his hand away, greedy for it.  He tugs Jared’s pants down, split knuckles dragging against Jared’s hips until his cock is free for Jensen to steal.

 Jared’s the musician but Jensen could write songs about that cock, epic poems, Homeric hymns to the eponymous Cuntwrecker.  He wraps a hand around the base, stroking up up up until a clear stream of precome glistens on the fat metal ring.  And yeah, it was easier when he was fourteen but he can still stack both his hands on it and suck the thick ring of his prince albert with spit room to spare.

 He purses his lips and closes his eyes.  Jensen always kisses it like he loves it first.

 “Jen, Jesus, I never, I’d never,” Jared babbles, his hands cupping reflex ready over the back of Jensen’s head.  Jensen looks up, dragging the head across the blood red gash in his lip.

 “They don’t get to hurt you.”

 There’s places where time doesn’t work right, locked bathrooms with his Daddy quoting Leviticus outside, classrooms full of kids who look on blankly while he loses his baby teeth early to some preacher’s oldest boy, locker rooms where the boy he’d kissed last week kicks him in the stomach until he pisses himself, places where time stood still while Jensen was somewhere else entirely.

 Jensen can feel every second pounding in his heart when Jared slides his cock between his bloody lips.

 He takes it as far as he can, never all the way because God only made one end of Jensen big enough for that.  Spit warm metal hits the back of his throat and that’ll explain the tears in his eyes.

 “Never, never, I’d fucking, Jensen.”

 Jared’s been screaming all night but this is a different kind of wrecked.  His right hand, his strumming cunting working glorious fucking hand molds over Jensen’s hollow-sucked cheek before he forces two, three, four of his fingers in alongside his cock.  Jensen’s lips could tear at the seam and he wouldn’t stop him, not when he can taste Jared’s bloody lovesick knuckles on the tip of his cocksucker tongue. 

 Jared says his name when he comes.  Every time.

 Jensen’s dizzy and swallowing and hard as fuck when he stands up, a little giddy as the world spins around him. 

 “Let me,” Jared tries, but Jensen just tucks Jared’s still-huge cock back into his pants.

“Later.”

 Jensen winces as his own dick screams at him for being the sensible one for once.

“We should go.”

 The side door opens with a slam.

 “Is it safe?” Adrianne stage-whispers, her head poking out.  Jason appears behind her in a cloud of smoke like someone turned a bong hit into a real boy.

 “Saved you the roach,” Jason grins, raising his split eyebrow as Jared staggers toward him.

 “Give it.”

 Jared sparks the meager end of what must have been an impressive joint.  True to form, Adrianne had rolled a fucking filter into it.  Short of having a dick there’s nothing she’s not the best at.

 “Ade and I are gonna check out the bartender’s local hospitality.”

 Jason grins, that placid stretch that means he’s going to fuck someone until they leave the earthly plane.

 “He and his wife are both bi-curious,” Adrianne cackles, flicking her tongue between the Barbie legs tattooed inside her middle and index fingers.  She’s as classy as she is capable.

 Jared passes the last of the joint to Jensen just in time to catch the van keys Adrianne tosses.  She ambles off with her arm slung around Jason’s waist. 

 “Your fucking soda’s in that bag over there,” Jensen yells as he catches a final snippet of their conversation.

 “Can I fuck the wifey, too?”

 “She won’t have anything left by the time I’m done, big guy.”

 Jared rolls his eyes, which has to hurt a little with the shiner blossoming over his eyelid.

 “Let’s move this van before fuckboy brings a lynch mob, yeah?”

 Jared leans down to shotgun the last hit from Jensen’s lungs, kissing him in the held-breath moment before time lurches back to claim them.

 “And then I’m gonna fuck you till you have to piss again.”

 Jensen wraps his arms around Jared’s shoulders, needing him close for one more second as he shakes his head no.

 “Gonna come on your hand first.”

 He smiles at the needy growl Jared makes, leaning up on the tip toes of his pink cons to whisper in Jared’s ear.

 “Want you to fuck me like a faggot.”

 Jensen’s a fucking faggot but so is the man he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilery: this is violent, really violent, with Jensen the victim of a homophobic hate crime and Jared retaliating in kind. There's piss and the threat of sexual violence. There are mentions of sex when Jensen is 12 and 14. This won't be for the faint of heart.
> 
> *(thanks Zep and Talking Heads)


End file.
